Chapter 6

Uprising

Vahkiir was lost in his thoughts as he and Brevyn made their way back to Blacklight the next morning. Though it was an hour after dawn, the ashy haze was particularly thick that morning, obscuring the sun and making it seem even earlier than it actually was. As such, Brevyn – who had sharper eyes in the darkness – led the way back to the city, with Vahkiir following in his wake. However, as the elf continued to steal glances over his shoulder at him, Vahkiir grew increasingly irritated until he finally lost his patience.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Brevyn blinked at his sharp response, then shook his head. "Merely wondering if something is troubling you. You've hardly spoken since yesterday."

Vahkiir hesitated, then sighed and looked away. "I am… ashamed of how I have behaved this past week."

"Since we began the hunt for the dragon?" Brevyn asked. When Vahkiir nodded, the elf shrugged. "Well, yes, you have seemed rather furious over the past few days, but you should not feel shame for your anger. In truth, the dragon infuriated me as well." Vahkiir glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, whereupon Brevyn added, "Besides, at least you put your rage to good use by harnessing it to accomplish a noble deed. That dragon was a menace to Blacklight, and I am certain that the people will be rather grateful that you removed the source of their oppression."

"Yes, but I had not intended to hunt it at all," Vahkiir replied, pausing to step around a brown, thorn-covered bush. "I had already chosen not to pursue it, as I did not wish to involve myself in your war with the Nords, and I feared that slaying it would be akin to choosing a side."

Brevyn tilted his head as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Then why did you decide otherwise?" he asked.

Vahkiir shook his head. "That's what is weighing so heavily on my mind," he sighed. "I did not decide otherwise. Rather, when I caught sight of the dragon… it was as though another part of myself took hold and compelled me to slay it."

Brevyn raised an eyebrow. "Compelled?" he repeated.

Vahkiir ran his hand over his eyes in frustration. "Yes. It was as though I was not even in command of my own body. Every time I thought of turning back, I was instead pressed onwards by an almost… obsessive need for vengeance. The dragon dared challenge me, and I quite literally could not allow that challenge to go unanswered."

Brevyn nodded slowly, wearing a deep, concerned frown. "Do you fear this other side of yourself, then?" he asked.

"I…." Vahkiir hesitated, then he swallowed and nodded. "I do." He turned back around as he folded his arms over his chest, gripping his right bicep so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "I cannot help but wonder if this is what the elders of my village feared. When they told me tales of past Dragonborn who descended into rage and hedonism, losing themselves to greed and wrath, I had thought that, although I have always had a quick temper, I would never do the same. Yet, I could not even restrain myself from pursuing one dragon!" He looked away again and muttered, "And what if it becomes increasingly difficult to keep my temper in check? What if this is only the first step into even more heinous acts of violence and depravity? If I could not even control myself the first time…."

Brevyn exhaled slowly as he looked up at the sky with a thoughtful expression. "In truth, I cannot say for certain if your anger will grow," he said. "The Dragonborn has never appeared in the legends of my people, so I know very little about it. However, the Nords revere the Dragonborn, and they were the first to master the language of the dragons. If anyone would know more about it, it is them." He smiled slightly and reached out to clap Vahkiir on the shoulder. "So, to that end, it's fortunate that Skyrim is our destination anyways. While we are searching for the one who summoned you, we can take some time to learn more about the nature of the Dragonborn, and how to control these… instincts you seem to have."

Vahkiir glanced over at the Chimer and quirked his mouth slightly – not quite a smile, but an expression of gratitude, nonetheless. "Perhaps," he murmured. "Though I fear that if I cannot curb these instincts – and if they worsen – then I will be little better than a mad beast."

"Well, in the meantime, if you would like, perhaps I could intervene if your rage overtakes you again," Brevyn suggested. "By force, if necessary."

Vahkiir let out a dry chuckle. "Brevyn, had you tried to prevent me from hunting that dragon, I would have attacked you first," he warned.

Brevyn raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smirk on his lips. "You are welcome to try," he replied easily.

Vahkiir stared at him, a slight chill running through him at how calmly Brevyn had responded. Though he was still smiling warmly, his demeanor had shifted slightly. He was brimming with confidence, and it was clear that he did not believe for one moment that he could not best Vahkiir if necessary. Somehow, Vahkiir almost found himself fearing this elf more than he did the dragon. Yet, in a strange way, it was also comforting.

"I suppose I should thank you, then," Vahkiir said drily as he began to follow the road again. After walking in silence for a short while, he remarked thoughtfully, "We never learned that dragon's name."

"Should we have?" Brevyn asked coldly. Vahkiir looked over to see that his smirk had hardened into a cold scowl. "Forgive me, but I have little pity for a monster that delighted in tormenting my kin. I do not care if a murderer shares his name with me while he is threatening me."

Vahkiir was about to reply, but thought better of it and simply fell silent. Although he understood Brevyn's perspective – and even agreed with it – he still could not help but feel some remorse. The dragon was no mindless beast, but a creature that was at least as intelligent as he and Brevyn. Thus, while on principle he did not regret ridding the region of the monster, he could not help but wonder if it had a name, if it had kin… and if said kin might come after him, seeking vengeance.

They resumed traveling in silence, and thankfully they completed the rest of their journey without incident. As evening began to approach, they crested one last hill, and Blacklight finally came into view. However, once they reached the apex of the hill, they both stopped and stared down into the valley in disbelief.

"What… is happening?" Brevyn whispered, his eyes wide with shock.

Although they were a quarter-mile from the city, it was evident that Blacklight was in chaos. They could just make out the sound of a bell ringing, which was mingled with the distant shouts and screams of the citizens. A half-dozen black plumes of smoke rose up from the city, suggesting that there were fires burning, and when Vahkiir looked carefully, he could see tiny figures running about like ants. Worst of all, he could occasionally hear the clash of metal on metal – the telltale sounds of battle.

"Could it be that the Nords already learned about the death of the dragon?" Vahkiir asked anxiously, feeling his stomach turning. "Might they believe that the citizens of Blacklight killed it?" He swallowed as he slowly turned to Brevyn. "Could this be their way of exacting vengeance?" he murmured, his stomach sinking at the thought that they might be responsible for the deaths of innocent citizens.

"I cannot say," Brevyn growled, narrowing his eyes at the city below. He suddenly took off at a dead run for the front gates. "But let us see for ourselves!"

Vahkiir hesitated for a brief moment, a protest jumping to his lips, but then he thought better of it and instead hurried after Brevyn, if only to ensure that his companion did not hurt himself by doing something reckless. They ran down the road towards the front gates of the city, which had been thrown open. As they neared the walls, a pair of arrows suddenly arced through the air from the guard towers flanking the gate, embedding themselves into the ashy soil front of Brevyn and Vahkiir.

The pair stopped short and looked up at the towers as Vahkiir unslung his bow and reached for an arrow. Before he could draw one, however, a golden-bronze face peered out from the top of the tower to glare down at Vahkiir. The elf drew her arrow back and sighted him as she shouted, "Halt, Nord! Take another step and I'll kill you where you stand!" She then glanced at Brevyn and added, "Quickly, sera! Make your way into the city! I swear, this frost-maned cur will not harry you any further!"

"What are you talking about?!" Brevyn demanded. "What is going on?!"

The elf faltered, lowering her bow slightly, though she continued to glare down at Vahkiir. "Is… is he not chasing you?" she asked.

"No!" Brevyn insisted. "He is a friend, and I would greatly appreciate it if you lowered your bow! For that matter, why are you in that tower?! What happened to the Nord garrison?!"

The elf glowered at Vahkiir, but she did as Brevyn asked and lowered her bow, though she did leave the arrow in the string. She then turned to Brevyn and responded, "It is a revolt, brother! At last, with the death of that cursed dragon, we have been given the opportunity to rise up against our oppressors!" She nodded to Vahkiir and began to raise her bow again. "You needn't serve that one any longer! Come, join us in reclaiming our city!"

"Will you stop aiming at him?!" Brevyn shouted, shifting so that he was between Vahkiir and the archer. "On my life, he is not your enemy!" The girl snarled, but when Brevyn refused to move, she reluctantly lowered her bow again. "Now… an uprising?!"

"Yes! At last, we no longer need fear the Nords' pet dragon, and now we can retake our city!" the woman crowed. "You are armed, yes? Come! The gates are open, and every blade is welcome!" She gave Vahkiir a wary look, then reluctantly added, "Even that one may enter, so long as he is wise enough to fight alongside us."

Brevyn winced as he turned to Vahkiir. His eyes were wide, pleading, as he said softly, "Vahkiir… I feel that I must…."

"Help retake the city?" Vahkiir finished. When Brevyn glanced away uncomfortably, Vahkiir shrugged and added, "I am hardly in a position to refuse your request."

Brevyn whipped his head back around, his eyes widening with surprise. "Then you'll aid us?" he asked breathlessly.

"I… cannot," Vahkiir said reluctantly. He felt a twinge of guilt as Brevyn's face fell, and he quickly added, "As I said, I do not feel that I should involve myself in this war until I know more about it." His expression then softened, and he smiled slightly. "However, I certainly will not stop you if you wish to fight alongside your kin."

Brevyn sighed heavily. "Well… I suppose that's the best that I can ask for, in any case," he muttered. It was clear from his tone that he was disappointed – once again – by Vahkiir's neutrality, but at least in this case, he seemed to agree that this was not Vahkiir's fight.

"Now, with that being said," Vahkiir added as he unslung his bow. "While I will not attack anyone on either side, I will be more than happy to watch your back for you." A slight smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "After all, wandering through a city like this can be dangerous, and I should at least endeavor to defend my companion."

Brevyn's expression brightened immediately, a grin spreading across his face. "That I can accept," he exclaimed as he pulled his dagger from his sheath. "Come, then!"

The two set off at a jog through the gate, the Chimer above watching them warily until they were past the threshold, and then they returned their attention to the wilderness beyond the walls. Vahkiir briefly wondered why they were not focused on the city itself, but when they passed by the guard towers, he saw that both entrances were guarded by four Chimer warriors, armed with bronze-tipped spears and leather shields. Vahkiir noticed them glaring at him as he entered the city, and he scowled back, but they did not move to attack him. He quickly pushed them out of his mind as Brevyn waved at him, encouraging him to follow.

"Where are we heading?" Vahkiir asked as he jogged behind Brevyn down the empty street, his boots echoing heavily off the bricks.

"We must see to two locations," Brevyn replied as he stopped at a crossroad and swung his head around in either direction. "First, we must find the armory and determine whether the city's store of weapons have been seized. If not, we must ensure that they are given to the Chimer. We must then make our way to the palace. The victor of this battle will likely be whoever can capture the other side's leaders, whether it is the Nords who subdue the Redoran council, or my kin who capture the jarl.

Vahkiir was about to reply, but motion out of the corner of his eye stopped him. He turned in time to see a pair of Nordic guards hurrying towards him, both clad in leather armor and armed with a shield and an axe. "Kinsman! Slay that elf!" one of them cried.

Vahkiir hesitated as they drew near, his hands starting to shake. While he had said that he would protect Brevyn, he was still reluctant to shoot at anyone, Nord or Chimer, and not simply because he had no desire to involve himself in their war. Rather, he had never aimed his bow at another man or elf. He had always been taught that his bow was a tool to gather food first, and a weapon second. Of course, the Skaal were not pacifists, and every adult in the village was expected to be willing and able to take up arms in its defense if necessary. However, his home was so remote and so far removed from conflict that he had never even considered that he might one day be drawn into battle. Now that he was, though… he certainly was no coward, as he had already proven by slaying two dragons, but he found that he simply could not turn his bow on another person.

Fortunately, Brevyn reacted swiftly as soon as he heard the Nord's cry. Before Vahkiir could even raise his bow, the elf darted past him, gripping his staff tightly in both hands. Just as the first Nord raised his axe, Brevyn knelt down and swung the staff between his legs, sweeping his ankle out from under him and knocking him to the ground. The other Nord raised his shield and swung it at Brevyn, but the elf danced back, nimbly avoiding the guard's attack. As the Nord tried to step around his fallen companion, Brevyn stepped in again and jabbed at the man's unprotected kneecap. The staff's hard wooden tip struck bone with a sickening crack, and the Nord screamed in pain and fell to the ground, dropping his shield to clutch his broken leg. As soon as his guard fell, Brevyn stepped in and thrusted his staff into the Nord's face three times. After the third blow, the man's screams stopped, and he slumped to the ground, lifeless, his face a broken, bloody mess.

By this point, the second guard had managed to climb to his feet again, and upon seeing his fallen companion, he let out a savage roar and charged at Brevyn with his shield raised. Brevyn tried to swing his staff again, but the guard's momentum knocked it aside, and Brevyn was rammed up against a wall. Vahkiir heard him grunt as the wind was knocked from his lungs when his back struck the hard sandstone surface. The guard sneered and drew his axe back to chop at him, but before he could swing it, Brevyn instinctively reached up and grabbed his wrist. The Nord growled and slammed his shield into Brevyn's chest again, trying to force him to loosen his grip, but the elf held him tightly… though it was clear that the guard was stronger than him. As they grappled with each other, Vahkiir saw Brevyn's free hand slide down to his belt. Just as the guard wrenched his axe-hand free, Brevyn reached over the rim of his shield and plunged his knife into the guard's neck. The Nord screamed and dropped his shield, clutching his neck as blood ran between his fingers. Brevyn immediately shoved him back, and then he slashed the copper blade across his throat. The guard's screams ceased as he dropped to his knees, clutching his throat until the life left his eyes and he sank to the ground.

Brevyn sighed to himself as he stepped away from the lifeless corpses of the guard, scowling down at his blood-stained robes in disgust. "And now these will need to be washed," he muttered irritably, before glancing up at Vahkiir. "Are you unharmed?"

Vahkiir realized that he was gaping at Brevyn, and abruptly closed his mouth, though he continued to stare at him, utterly amazed. He knew that the elf was a fair warrior, having helped him slay two dragons, but the ease with which he had dispatched the two warriors had left him in a state of mild shock. What's more, Brevyn didn't seem to fight like a warrior. He didn't know what he fought like, but Vahkiir had never seen someone so swift and lithe. The fact that he had managed to kill two guards in a matter of moments, with nothing more than a staff and a knife, had him rapidly reevaluating everything he knew about the Chimer.

"Vahkiir!" Brevyn snapped, raising his voice, which jolted Vahkiir out of his thoughts. "Are you unharmed?" he repeated.

"Y-yes," Vahkiir stammered. He glanced down at the dead guards again, then hesitantly asked, "How… did you-?"

"We must still reach the armory, and I do not believe those are the last guards we will encounter," Brevyn interrupted. "Keep an arrow on your string and follow me!"

With that, Brevyn took off down the street again, leaving Vahkiir staring after him for a moment before he snapped out of his daze and hurried to follow him. Brevyn was right, he told himself. They were in the middle of a battle, and it was dangerous to lose focus. Even so, he could not help casting one last glance at the corpses behind him, and an involuntary shudder ran through his body before he turned back around and resumed following Brevyn through the city.

They managed to make their way unmolested down two empty, narrow side streets before they emerged onto one of the wide main roads. Brevyn stopped short and threw up his arm, catching Vahkiir in the chest and bringing him to a halt as well. Vahkiir frowned at him, but then he saw Brevyn looking to his left, and when he followed the elf's gaze, he quickly realized why he had stopped.

Chimer and Nordic warriors were clashing in the middle of the street, perhaps a hundred on either side. The Nords were pressed together in a tight, compact rectangle that stretched from one side of the street to the other, to keep from being flanked. They were slowly but inexorably pushing back a shallower line of Chimer warriors who were armed with yellowed bone shields and chitinous spears. Though the elves were fighting valiantly, the Nordic formation was too dense, and they were being forced back under its sheer weight. However, though the Nordic infantry had the advantage, they were also surrounded on all sides by other Chimer who had managed to get around behind them by climbing onto rooftops and leaning out of windows. These elves were showering the Nords with arrows and stones, and though the Nords' bronze scale armor was repelling most of the missiles, occasionally a lucky bolt would find a gap in their armor and leave one of them wounded, or worse. Although the rear rank of the Nords had their shields raised to ward off as much of the deadly hail as possible, the Chimer archers were having some success in halting the Nords' advance. In truth, Vahkiir could not tell which side had the advantage.

"Would you like to go help them?" Vahkiir asked, giving Brevyn a sidelong look.

The corner of Brevyn's mouth twitched as he considered the question, but then he shook his head. "No," he replied softly. "There is little that one or two more warriors could do to make a meaningful impact on this battle. Besides, those are warriors from House Redoran, the mightiest of all of the Great Houses. If anyone can best the Nords in a straight battle, it's them. Besides, one of my questions has now been answered."

"And that is?" Vahkiir asked.

"Clearly House Redoran has already seized the armory," Brevyn explained. "Look at their weapons. Spears, axes, blades, bows… they would not be permitted to carry such weapons openly, and I doubt they could have hidden so many for this long. They have already armed themselves without our help, so we needn't concern ourselves with the armory any further."

Vahkiir winced as he heard one of the warriors scream in pain, and he found himself privately glad that Brevyn had decided not to join them. "Then you wish for us to make our way to the palace?" he asked.

"As swiftly as possible," Brevyn confirmed. "Come."

Brevyn edged around the corner of the alleyway and began running in the opposite direction, away from the battle, with Vahkiir in tow. As they ran, he thought he heard an arrow clatter across the ground behind him, but he did not dare turn around to see. If he was being shot at, his attacker had clearly missed, and he had no intention of allowing them to line up a second shot.

They sprinted down two empty streets before turning right, where they once again found themselves on one of the main roads. Another skirmish was raging in the center of the street, with a mob of Redoran warriors pushing furiously against a contingent of Nordic guards at the base of the palace. At least a score of Nord archers were arrayed on the palace steps, loosing arrows into the Redoran forces, but while a handful of elves fell with each volley, they kept pushing ferociously against the Nordic shield wall holding them back.

"Hold here a moment," Brevyn said softly, putting a hand on Vahkiir's shoulder. "If we were to join this melee without heavy armor, we would undoubtedly meet a swift death. However, their lines will soon crumble – you can see that they are wavering already." The elf lowered his head slightly, his eyes burning with anticipation. "That will be our opening. Once they break and run, we shall help storm the palace. When the Nords fall back, we will hound them for as long as we can, until they retreat into the palace. Then we can decide what to do next." He glanced at Vahkiir out of the corner of his eye. "Are you ready?"

Vahkiir was about to say that he wasn't, but he swallowed that response. While he was still uncomfortable with the thought of killing anyone, he had sworn that he would guard Brevyn. Thus, if the elf was bound for the palace, so was he… and hopefully, he could find a way to protect his companion without needing to draw blood. "As I shall ever be," Vahkiir muttered.

"Good," Brevyn said. He kept his hand on Vahkiir's shoulder as he approached the rear of the Chimer lines. A few of the elven warriors turned towards them as they approached, and though their eyes widened with fury upon seeing Vahkiir, Brevyn held his other hand up in a calming gesture. "Lower your weapons. He is an ally."

Vahkiir narrowed his eyes as the Chimer glared at him, but then another elf wearing a conical bronze helmet decorated with feathers – apparently a leader of some sort, Vahkiir surmised – approached them before the other elves could accost them. He stared at Vahkiir for a long moment, then glanced at Brevyn. Finally, he shrugged. "We will not turn away those that wish to aid us, no matter their race," he said. A moment later, however, he narrowed his eyes at Vahkiir, and his tone turned harsh. "However, we shall be watching you closely for treachery, Nord, and if you give us reason to turn our blades upon you, we shall do so without hesitation." He then turned and nodded to the Nordic archers still raining arrows down on the elves from the top of the palace. "If you are truly with us, though, you can turn that bow of yours upon them."

Vahkiir felt a lump form in his throat, which he forced himself to swallow down as he once again put an arrow on his string. He could feel his hands trembling as he drew the bow back and tried to judge the distance to the temple. From where he was standing, he guessed that his target – a Nord near the corner of the palace – was roughly a hundred yards away. It was a difficult shot, but not impossible. Nevertheless, Vahkiir felt his heart beating rapidly as he sighted the Nord down the shaft of his arrow, then tilted his bow back to compensate for the distance between him and his target. Resisting the urge to close his eyes, he exhaled and released the arrow.

Though Chimer archers were also loosing arrows at the Nords near the palace entrance, Vahkiir had no difficulty tracking his own arrow as it soared upwards through the air. His breath caught in his chest when it began its descent, arcing towards the Nord… and missing by a few feet, clattering harmlessly across the tiled floor of the palace.

Vahkiir winced as he glanced at the Chimer leader, who had been watching as well. To his surprise, however, the elf laughed and nodded. "A fair shot, though you may wish to aim a bit higher," he remarked. "Nevertheless, since you have proven your willingness to aim at the Nords, I cannot doubt your sincerity… so long as your loyalty holds," he added, his tone briefly turning dire again. "Here," he added, stooping down to pick up a fallen bone shield that was on the ground. Splashed across its surface was a red, abstract insectoid design. "You needn't wield this, but wear it over your back. It will mark you as one of us. The rest of you!" he added, raising his voice to his men, and the back ranks turned towards him. "Do not harm this one! Understand?"

The Chimer once again glared at him, and then there came a low, reluctant mutter of assent. Even so, Vahkiir could also hear one or two elves muttering, "Turncoat." "Traitor." "-worse than those Nords – at least they fight for their own kind."

"Pay them no mind," the Chimer told Vahkiir. "They may grumble, but they shall not harm you – and any that do shall answer to me," he added firmly. The elves in the formation quickly turned back around, whereupon the Chimer leader continued, "If they trouble you, just seek me out. My name is Captain Ridras. We shall see you in the palace, friend. Azura watch over you." He then turned back around, scowling at the other Chimer. "The rest of you, stop gawking! Sedris! Send word to Nerevar that the palace garrison is on the verge of retreat and that he should bring reinforcements!"

Vahkiir could still feel the hostile eyes of the other Chimer lingering on him, but none dared countermand their captain, and after a few moments, they turned back around to focus on the battle at hand. He took a slow breath to steady himself, silently figuring that so long as he stayed close to Brevyn, the other Chimer would not bother him. He might make himself a target for the Nords, if they realized that he was aiding the Chimer, but from what he could see of the forces holding the palace, the Nords were on the verge of losing this battle anyways. So long as the Chimer won, they would not be able to seek vengeance against him, if they remembered him at all. Even so, he silently reaffirmed his decision not to loose his arrows against anyone unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps it did not matter now, but for his own peace of mind, he still wished to stay out of the battle and avoid inflicting any casualties, if possible.

Brevyn kept his hand on Vahkiir's shoulder as the battle raged in front of them, almost as though he was holding him back. "Just wait," he said softly. "Only after the warriors break their lines shall we join this battle."

"When will we know that their lines have broken, though? I'm not tall enough to see" Vahkiir muttered, flinching and ducking as an arrow whistled over his head, though it missed him by several feet.

"When the Nords turn and retreat, the warriors will rush forward," Brevyn explained. "If you look closely at our formation, you can see our line bulging outwards at the center. Thus, the Nords are likely on the brink of defeat…."

Only a few moments after Brevyn spoke, the Nordic warriors suddenly shouted, "Retreat! Retreat into the palace!" The command was echoed down the lines, and the Nordic archers turned and rushed through the open palace doors while the warriors holding the lines against the Chimer tide. Once the bowmen were inside, the remaining Nords began hurrying up the stairs as quickly as possible, fending off the Chimer pursuing them as best they could while the archers pelted the elves with arrows.

"Now!" Brevyn hissed in Vahkiir's ear. Before he could respond, the elf was sprinting forward and weaving his way past the Chimer warriors. Vahkiir once again followed him at a slower pace, roughly shoving his way past irritated warriors who were clearly restraining themselves from striking him in retaliation. He and Brevyn managed to slip through the Chimer shield wall when it was halfway up the palace steps, and Brevyn was the first to reach the top of the stairs, just as the Nords shut the large double doors. A moment later, Vahkiir heard a heavy thud from within the palace.

"They've likely barred the doors," Brevyn muttered with a scowl. He took a moment to glance around, and then he cried, "Come!"

The elf turned and began dashing to his left, with Vahkiir following several paces behind. Brevyn made his way halfway around the palace before he stopped and looked up, his eyes fixated on a narrow, shuttered window about fifteen feet above them on the second level. He then turned to Vahkiir and asked, "Could you help me reach that?"

Vahkiir hesitated, silently measuring the distance. Both he and Brevyn were of below-average height, and even if he lifted the elf up, he doubted Brevyn's fingertips would reach the windowsill. "I… do not believe we are tall enough-" he began.

Brevyn shook his head. "I had a thought. It may be difficult, but if we time this properly, you could hoist me up, then use your force shout to send me the rest of the way. Once I have grabbed hold of the windowsill, I will throw my rope down to you for you to climb up." He pulled his rope off his pack and held it up for emphasis.

Vahkiir stared at the elf blankly. "That is foolish," he said bluntly. "I cannot control the strength of my shout. If I use it on you, it will be as though you are caught in a windstorm. I doubt you will catch the windowsill so much as be blown through it, if you do not miss altogether and crack your skull on the wall."

Brevyn scowled at him. "Then what do you propose instead?" he asked irritably.

Vahkiir smiled faintly. "Simple," he replied. He hurried back around to the front of the palace, where most of the Chimer army was attempting to batter down the doors. "You there!" he shouted to a few of the nearest elves. When they turned towards him, he said, "We are attempting to reach a window. Could you aid us?"

After a momentary discussion, four or five elves quickly hurried over to them, clearly eager to help. When approached Brevyn with the other Chimer in tow, his companion glanced away sheepishly. "Ah," he muttered.

"No need to make this more complicated than necessary," Vahkiir said smugly, before reaching down and cupping his hands together to help lift him up. "Come."

With the help of the other elves, they were able to quickly form a stable base of three men, with two more climbing on their shoulders, and Brevyn climbing on top of theirs. He was then able to easily reach the shuttered window, which he opened by sliding his knife through the narrow gap between the two shutters and knocking the latch open. He quickly clambered through, then threw a rope down, allowing the other half-dozen warriors to climb up and join him.

As Vahkiir pulled himself through the window, he took a moment to glance around the room. It seemed to be a dining room, with decorative tapestries hanging from the sandstone walls and brightly-colored woven carpets covering the red tiled floor. Plants in clay pots were intermittently placed next to wooden couches with plush, striped cushions on them, and round tables were set up around the room. However, to his mild surprise, the room was completely empty.

"Why are there no guards? Did they not think that anyone would come through here?" Vahkiir asked as he stepped out of the way for another Chimer to climb through the window.

"Perhaps they simply did not have the men necessary to guard every room," Brevyn suggested. "Or perhaps the governor has gathered his men to him, to protect him. Either way, we shouldn't question our good fortune. Let's keep moving."

He walked over to the heavy wooden door, only to find it locked, much to his annoyance – which Vahkiir supposed also helped explain why the room was empty. Fortunately, two of the warriors who had followed them into the room were particularly burly elves wearing heavy bone armor. Together, they lowered their shoulders and rammed into the door, which burst open after a few blows.

The door opened to a large hallway, where a pair of Nords were patrolling. One turned in time to see the elven warriors rushing towards them, and though he managed to draw his axe and swing it, his blow was caught on his attacker's shield, and he was quickly felled by a vicious blow to the side of his head from the elf's mace. The second Nord took advantage of the opening, and his sword pierced clean through said elf's throat, sending the warrior to the ground in a pool of blood. A second elf charged towards him, but the Nord ducked under his blow and slashed him across the shin. As the elf cried out in pain and dropped to his knee, the Nord plunged his sword into the Chimer's face. That was the last kill he earned, however, as the other elves swarmed over him and hacked at him furiously. When they finally pulled away a few moments later, his body little more than a mass of slash marks and gaping wounds.

Vahkiir suppressed a shudder as he edged around the body, following the elves as they hurried down the hall. As they ran, one of the Chimer said something in elvish. Brevyn quickly translated for Vahkiir, "Our objective is still to ensure the safety of the Redoran Council, yes?"

"According to Nerevar, yes," another Chimer replied. "They should be somewhere within this palace."

"If we are seeking to restore the Council, should we be concerned that the Nords are seeking the opposite?" Brevyn asked in Nordic. When the Chimer frowned at him, he quickly explained, "My companion and I just returned from a hunt, so we are unclear about how this battle began, but… we are attempting to overthrow the Nordic ruler, yes? If the Nords were trying to quell this uprising, wouldn't their objective be the deaths of the councilors?"

One of the other Chimer glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. "Even if they were to slay the council members, that would not stop us. We would simply appoint new elders to their empty seats after we drove them from this city." She then smirked confidently. "Besides… we are not the Hlaalu or the Dres. We are Redoran. Our councilmen would not have earned their seats if they were not the finest warriors of our House. I would fear less for their lives and more for the fools who dared turn their blades upon them."

"Then where are they likely to be?" Vahkiir asked.

The female Chimer glared at him, but when Brevyn nodded in agreement, she reluctantly replied in Nordic, "If they have not sought refuge in their apartments, we will likely find them in the council chambers, accompanied by their shield-bearers. The chamber one of the safest, most defensible rooms in this palace, with only one entrance." She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, and then she added, "In fact, we may wish to proceed with caution once we reach that room. Their guards are likely to attack us as soon as we open the door, even if we announce who we are. They will be on high alert for treachery."

"As well they should!" another Chimer exclaimed as they rounded a corner to see nearly a dozen Nordic warriors attempting to ram down a heavy wooden door with a thick log. The door still held, but each time they slammed the head of the log into the door, it shuddered under the impact, and even from here, Vahkiir could already see deep cracks in the door.

Suddenly, one of the Nords noticed the elves and let out a shout. A moment later, the other Nords turned around, then snarled and readied their weapons. Vahkiir felt his heart drop as he realized that they were outnumbered more than two-to-one, and that the Nords were armed with heavy bronze armor and thick wooden shields, while the Chimer were only wearing lighter bone armor, and most were carrying long spears. In such tight quarters with little space to maneuver, the Nords had the clear advantage.

"Prepare yourselves!" one the Chimer said, raising his shield as the Nords charged towards them.

An idea struck Vahkiir as the Nords charged towards them. He suddenly pushed his way past the elves as they began to form a line, ignoring their indignant protests. Just before the first Nord reached them, Vahkiir inhaled sharply, then shouted, "FUS!"

The air in front of his mouth exploded outward, and the Nords nearest to him were knocked onto their backs, while those a bit further back staggered backwards, then fell over as well as their comrades tumbled into them. Only the three in the rear were able to stay on their feet, but even they stopped dead in their tracks to stare at Vahkiir in disbelief, clearly shocked that one of their own would turn against them, much less Shout at them.

Thankfully, though the Chimer were also surprised, they were also quick to seize the opening that Vahkiir had given them. Before the Nords could climb to their feet, the elves were upon them, pinning them to the ground and hacking at them with their weapons. The Nords that had managed to keep their balance quickly recovered upon seeing this, but they were too late to help their fallen comrades. A short but brutal melee ensued, and by the end of it, all of the Nords had been slain, though one of the Chimer also lay among the dead, and two more sported deep wounds.

Nevertheless, Brevyn and another Chimer hurried to the door and called out to the councilors inside, though they were speaking Elvish, so Vahkiir did not know what was being said. There was a brief pause, and then a voice shouted back – again, incomprehensible to Vahkiir, though the speaker sounded suspicious. Brevyn responded in a soothing voice, and there was another brief pause, before the voice behind the door barked at them. Brevyn and the other Chimer backed away, and the door slowly opened to reveal a pair of elven guards clad in heavy bronze armor and brandishing deeply curved bronze swords. They peeked out the door suspiciously, then visibly relaxed upon seeing the Chimer standing in the hallway. One of them spotted Vahkiir and eyed him warily, but Brevyn quickly said something in Elvish that apparently convinced him to lower his weapon, though the guard continued to glare at him.

As he could not understand the ensuing conversation – which he suspected involved the Chimer informing the councilors of all that had transpired thus far – Vahkiir chose to instead keep watch for any other Nords approaching. A loud cracking sound echoed from downstairs, and Vahkiir immediately realized that the Chimer outside had finally broken the door. His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when he heard the sounds of screaming and clashing metal echoing from below.

A sudden pressure on his shoulder startled him, and Vahkiir glanced over his shoulder to see Brevyn's grinning face. "Well done with that Shout," he said. "According to the councilors, the Jarl of Blacklight – a man named Gunmar – has barricaded himself in the throne room with his housecarls – elite warriors sworn to his service."

"Is he likely to surrender?" Vahkiir asked with a frown. "He must realize by now that the battle is lost."

"I do not know if he does, or if he will," Brevyn sighed. "Supposedly, he earned a great deal of renown for his prowess in war, so he may be reluctant to surrender. Nevertheless, it would be preferable if we could convince him to stand down. There is no need for any further bloodshed, and the councilors have said they intend to allow him to return to Skyrim unharmed."

"That's… unusually generous of them," Vahkiir remarked. "I thought that you and your people despised the Nords."

"We do," Brevyn confirmed as they made their way down the hall. "However, it seems that while Gunmar is a poor governor, he is not outright cruel. He did allow corruption to fester under his watch, but according to the councilors, he tried to govern fairly, and he never reveled in my people's misery. Thus, they are willing to spare his life, so long as he stands down."

Vahkiir frowned slightly, silently wondering if it would indeed be that easy, but he decided not to voice his concerns. After all, he reminded himself, this was not his battle.

Moments later, Brevyn and Vahkiir joined the other Chimer outside of the throne room. Four more Nords lay dead outside the door – as did another elf – but Vahkiir could tell from the sounds of battle below that the rest of the army would soon arrive. He noticed movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned to see an elderly Chimer with long white hair and dressed in ornate bronze armor approaching them. He smiled faintly at the Chimer arrayed outside the door, and then he raised his voice.

"Jarl Gunmar Tallhelm!" he shouted through the door. "This is Councilman Redoran Seras. Your guards have been slain, and Blacklight is once again under Redoran control. There is no need for you to lose your life this day. Tell your housecarls to lay down their arms, and we swear to grant you safe passage back to Skyrim."

From inside the door, Vahkiir heard a derisive laugh. "Come now, Councilman, you cannot truly expect me to believe you shall grant me amnesty," a deep, guttural voice replied. "We showed you no quarter when we took this city – why should you?"

Seras shook his head. "You were not yet alive when this city was first taken, Jarl," he replied. "I was. The conqueror of this city, Dagrun the Stout, could have plundered and razed this city to the ground, yet he showed us mercy. He did not even allow his men to pillage. It is in his memory that I now offer you the same mercy."

There was a brief pause, and then the gruff voice shouted back, "That was before the civil war began, Councilman. If I surrender now, I will return to Skyrim in shame. This is not the era of Vrage the Gifted, when loyalty and honor mattered. All that matters now is what you can take and hold with your own might. It does not matter if another tries to take what is yours with an open hand or a closed fist. You cannot allow anything to be taken."

Seras glanced over his shoulder as he heard footsteps clambering up the stairs. "There is an army of furious Chimer coming to confront you, Jarl," he warned. "If I command them to stand down, they will obey. However, if you will not listen to reason – if you would force a battle – I will not be able to curb their wrath. It does not matter how skilled your housecarls are. My kinsmen will pour through this door like a flood and tear you limb from limb. I am offering you the only means to escape with your life."

There was a long pause as the heavy footsteps drew closer. Then the voice replied in a low voice, "So be it. Better to die in battle and join my ancestors in Sovngarde than to be branded a coward by my countrymen and live with that dishonor."

Seras heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, obviously disappointed in his response. "Stubborn fool. So be it," he muttered. As the first of the Chimer warriors thundered down the hall, the Councilman nodded to the heavy double doors. "He is inside," he said reluctantly. "I only ask that you do not desecrate his corpse. Show him respect after you have slain him."

A few of the Chimer reluctantly grumbled an assent, but Vahkiir wondered if they would honor it. He swallowed as the elves began battering the door down, but he was only able to watch for a few moments before the Seras approached him.

"You are the one that slew that dragon that has been terrorizing us, yes?" he asked.

"I…." Vahkiir hesitated. "It was not I who slew it," he said, glancing at Brevyn.

Seras raised an eyebrow at Brevyn, who looked away. "But you are the one they call Dragonborn, yes?" he pressed. Vahkiir hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "I see," Seras said. Turning, he held a hand out, inviting Vahkiir to walk with him. "Come. The council and I wish to speak with you."

Vahkiir hesitated and shot Brevyn a sidelong look, which the elf responded to with an encouraging nod. A moment later, he heard the wooden door crack loudly, and he swallowed the bile rising in his throat before muttering, "Lead the way then, Councilman."

Seras smiled faintly and turned, folding his hands behind his back as he calmly strode down the hall. Vahkiir followed at his heels, not daring to look over his shoulder as the frenzied shouts and cries of the Chimer echoed through the palace behind him.

Seras led them down the hallway to the council chambers, where four other elves were seated around a large, circular marble table. Standing before them was a Chimer of average height, with a shaved head, and wearing nothing more than a loose, tan skirt. As they sidled past him, Vahkiir caught sight of his androgynous face, and he especially noticed his golden-brown, almond-shaped eyes. They seemed unusually deep, brimming with wisdom and cunning, and Vahkiir found himself staring for a moment, until the elf glanced at him, and he hastily looked away. The Chimer stopped mid-sentence and shifted to allow them past before continuing. Brevyn, who was standing beside him, translated quietly.

"As I was saying," the elf said, "you have Nerevar to thank for the liberation of your capital. You cannot say he has not proven his mettle as a leader and general this day. Thus, we ask you to name him Hortator, and to unite behind him so that we might finally drive the Nordic scourge from our homeland."

"Nerevar?" one of the councilors scoffed. "As I understand it, our city was freed because the dragon that was holding us hostage was slain. Unless you would claim that it was Nerevar himself that slew the beast?" he added disdainfully, narrowing his eyes, as though daring the Chimer to challenge him.

The elf paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face, and for a moment, Vahkiir wondered if he was indeed going to make that claim. A moment later, though, he admitted, "No. From what I understand, we have our Nordic friend there to thank for that." He turned and nodded to Vahkiir. "However, it was Nerevar who took advantage of the dragon's demise. Nerevar who rallied the warriors of this town to his side. Nerevar who led them to seize the armory. Nerevar who coordinated the assault on the palace." The elf then smirked. "In fact, were it not for his timely intervention, it is quite likely Jarl Gunmar would have panicked and ordered your execution while you were still unaware of what had transpired, in an effort to maintain hold of the city, now that his pet nix hound is no more."

The councilors fell silent, then turned to mutter to one another. Beside him, Vahkiir saw Seras fold his arms over his chest and scowl at the elf. Finally, one of the councilors looked up again and said, "Vehk, was it?"

"Indeed," the elf nodded.

"First, we do not even know for certain if your claims about Nerevar are true. We must determine his role in this battle for ourselves. For instance, how was he the first to know that the dragon had been slain-?"

Vehk smiled faintly. "In truth? Happenstance. The one who first learned of the dragon's death was a merchant who decided she wished to chance the road at night, hoping she might sneak by it while it slept. She claimed to have heard the dragon's roars, and when she crept closer, she claimed to have seen its skeleton. She did not know how it had become a skeleton so quickly, but she was certain that it was dead. Thus, she returned to the city as swiftly as possible to spread the news. Nerevar himself was nearby when she announced it, and it was he who set about rallying the warriors of this city into an army."

"…I see," the councilor said slowly, before shaking his head. "Nevertheless, we are still uncertain if your claims about Nerevar are even true. We must determine for ourselves his role in this battle." Vehk narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth – clearly to about protest – but the councilor held his hand up. "If what you say is true, he will have our thanks and our respect. However… that still does not mean we will agree to declare him Hortator. You must understand, we cannot simply allow a rebel leader to take command of our armies just because he liberated our city."

Vehk folded his arms over his chest. "You simply wish to retain your own power," he accused them bluntly.

One of the other councilors indignantly sprang to his feet, but the lone woman at the table held up her hand to calm him. "We are the leaders of House Redoran, and we must decide what is best for our house," she said, turning back to Vehk. "If we march to war behind this Nerevar, and his crusade fails, then the blood of our people is on our hands for making this decision. We cannot allow an unproven rebel to take up command of our forces out of mere gratitude."

"An unproven rebel?! House Dagoth and two of the Ashlander tribes have already allied with him, and he just freed your city with only a few hundred warriors! What more must he prove?!" Vehk sighed and shook his head. "Have you truly grown so complacent under Nordic rule that you will not even take up arms against them when the opportunity is presented to you? Your city is free! Now is the time to unite against the Nordic horde, before they can recover from this defeat!"

"We also need time to rebuild and re-arm our armies," the first councilor countered. "Even if we were to declare Nerevar Hortator, we would not have much of an army to provide him right now anyways."

"And until then, you refuse to ally yourselves with us?" Vehk asked.

"Perhaps it is Nerevar who should submit to us instead," another councilor sneered. "After all, we do possess the mightiest army in Veloth."

"Yes… and how did that army fare against the Nords the last time it met them in battle?" Vehk countered, sneering.

At his words, two of the councilors drew their blades, while the other two let out indignant shouts. Seras quickly swept forward to stand between Vehk and his agitated peers.

"You have our answer," Seras said curtly to Vehk. "If there is nothing else, we would ask you to depart, as we must still speak with our dragon-slaying friend here."

Vehk cast a quick glance over at Vahkiir, then sighed and held his hands up in defeat. "Very well," he muttered reluctantly. His gaze continued to linger on Vahkiir, however, until his stare became almost unsettling, and only after several seconds did he finally turn to leave the room. He muttered something under his breath that Vahkiir didn't catch, but Brevyn apparently did. "I doubt Telepe had this much difficulty." When Vahkiir shot Brevyn a confused frown, wondering what that meant, Brevyn could only shrug helplessly.

"Now then," Seras said, drawing their attention back to him as he took a seat at the head of the table. "First, allow me to once again thank you both for ridding us of that infernal beast that had been terrorizing our city. We could not have taken our city back without your aid."

"Well… there is no need to thank us," Vahkiir muttered, looking away.

"Come now, there is no need for humility," Seras insisted.

Vahkiir didn't answer him. Humility had nothing to do with it – he was still ashamed that he had been unable to restrain himself from hunting the dragon in the first place. The fact that it had helped the Chimer take back their city was incidental, and he felt he did not deserve any thanks for failing to control himself.

Brevyn, however, smiled and inclined his head. "You honor us with your praise, elders."

Seras considered them for a long moment, and then he said slowly, "I… have a proposition for you, Dragonborn." Vahkiir slowly turned back around, frowning at the Chimer's tone. "You have already lent us your aid once, but there are still many other cities in Veloth that-"

"No, I will not fight for you," Vahkiir interrupted sharply. Seras stopped short and blinked in surprise, then scowled at his tone. "Forgive me," he continued more softly. "But this war is not mine to fight. I am neither Nord nor Chimer, and I do not wish to involve myself any more than necessary. I slew the dragon because I felt that I must, and I aided you today to for the sake of my companion, and to thank him for the aid he has lent me thus far. I will not, however, openly war against the Nords on your behalf."

The Redoran councilors turned and began to mutter to each other. Vahkiir glanced at Brevyn out of the corner of his eye, but the elf's face was unreadable. Fortunately, he did not seem disappointed – if anything, he seemed to have already accepted Vahkiir's decision without reservation.

Finally, the Chimer elders turned back around with a sigh. "You are certain we cannot persuade you?" the female councilor asked. "Please, think of our plight. The Nords have unjustly occupied our lands for centuries. If one of their own were to stand against them-"

"That is where you are mistaken," Vahkiir said curtly, anger starting to flicker inside of him. "I am not a Nord. I am a Skaal. Perhaps I look similar to them, but I suspect that my beliefs are as alien to them as yours are. As such, I am no more Nord than you. The fact that you cannot recognize this is, frankly, insulting."

"I must concur with my friend here," Brevyn added. As the elders turned to him, he explained, "If you seek to appoint him as your champion, as an example to other Nords that even their own will not stand for their tyranny, then I must warn you that you are making a grave mistake. Should the Nords catch wind of Vahkiir's heritage, they will use it against you, branding you liars and deceivers. Even our people would be disgusted by your ruse." He let out a soft chuckle. "Besides, I can tell you from experience that Vahkiir would make a rather poor pawn, should you seek to use him for your own ends."

Vahkiir leveled a light glower at him, uncertain whether to be grateful or annoyed.

Seras sighed and inclined his head. "Very well, then," he said. He was clearly disappointed, but appeared to have decided not to press them further. "Nevertheless, please allow us to reward you for your service to our city. Are you staying here long?"

"We cannot. We intend to depart for Winterhold as soon as possible," Vahkiir said.

Seras nodded. "Then please allow us to offer you any supplies that you need. It is the least that we can do."

"I…." Vahkiir hesitated, then glanced at Brevyn, who nodded encouragingly. "Very well. Thank you for your generous gift," he agreed.

Seras smiled faintly. "Also… did you intend to hunt other dragons, perchance?" he asked.

Vahkiir grimaced, shaking his head. "Not intentionally, no," he admitted.

"I see," Seras said. "Nevertheless, as you are the one who slew this dragon, I feel that I should warn you – there is someone you should be wary of, especially if you are bound for Skyrim." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Vokrijun. That is the name of the sorcerer who is said to command dragons. I know nothing about them other than their name, but I suspect that it is they who ordered the dragon to guard the pass. If word reaches them that you have slain one of their beasts, you may find that you have made a powerful enemy."

Brevyn's eyes widened, and then he leaned over and murmured to Vahkiir, "I recognize that name. They also ordered the creation of the bronze claw."

"Indeed?" Vahkiir asked, raising an eyebrow. "Very well, then," he said, raising his voice again as he addressed Seras. "We shall heed your advice and remain on our guard."

"That would be wise of you," Seras said evenly. He then smiled and folded his hands in front of him. "Now, while I understand you must depart soon, I would like to request that you delay your journey for at least a day or two." Vahkiir began to scowl, whereupon Seras' smile broadened. "After all, we must celebrate the liberation of Blacklight, and we would very much like to host you two as guests of honor." He began to chuckle as Vahkiir's eyes widened with surprise "Tell me, is there anything you would like for us to include in the banquet?"

Vahkiir glanced at Brevyn, who shook his head. "Just… so long as planter's stew is not the only dish served," Vahkiir muttered.

Seras blinked, then burst out laughing at the request. "That can certainly be arranged," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mirth.